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“Truly,” said the hermit, “it is because thou art only a Neck, and nothing better, that thou dost not know the value of human life.”

“And art thou a man, possessed already of a soul, and destined for immortality,” cried the Neck, “and dost haggle and grudge to benefit me by the sacrifice of a few uncertain days, when it is but to exchange them for the life that knows no end?”

“Our days are always uncertain,” replied the hermit; “but existence is very sweet, even to the most wretched. Moreover, I see not that thou hast any claim upon mine.” Saying which he returned to his cell, but the Neck, flinging aside his harp, sat upon the water, and wept bitterly.

Days passed, and the hermit did not show himself, and at last the Neck resolved to go and visit him. So he took his harp, and taking also the form of a boy with long fair hair and a crimson cap, he appeared in the hermit’s cell. There he found the old man stretched upon his pallet, for lie was dying. When he saw the Neck he was glad, and said, “I have desired to see thee, for I repent myself that I did not according to thy wishes. Yet is the desire of life stronger in the human breast than thou canst understand. Nevertheless I am sorry, and I am sorry also that, as I am sick unto death, my life will no longer avail thee. But when I am dead, do thou take all that belongs to me, and dress thyself in my robe, and go out into the world, and do works of mercy, and perchance some one whom thou hast benefited will be found willing to die with thee, that thou mayst obtain a soul.”

“Now indeed I thank thee!” cried the Neck. “But yet one word more–what are these works of which thou speakest?”

“The corporal works of mercy are seven,” gasped the hermit, raising himself on his arm. “To feed the hungry and give the thirsty drink, to visit the sick, to redeem captives, to clothe the naked, to shelter the stranger and the houseless, to visit the widow and fatherless, and to bury the dead.” Then even as he spoke the last words the hermit died. And the Neck clothed himself in his robe, and, not to delay in following the directions given to him, he buried the hermit with pious care, and planted flowers upon his grave. After which he went forth into the world.

Now for three hundred years did the Neck go about doing acts of mercy and charity towards men. And amongst the hungry, and the naked, and the sick, and the poor, and the captives, there were not a few who seemed to be weary of this life of many sorrows. But when he had fed the hungry, and clothed the naked, and relieved the sick, and made the poor rich, and set the captive free, life was too dear to all of them to be given up. Therefore he betook himself to the most miserable amongst men, and offering nothing but an easy death in a good cause, he hoped to find some aged and want-worn creature who would do him the kindness he desired. But of those who must look forward to the fewest days and to the most misery there was not one but, like the fabled woodcutter, chose to trudge out to the end his miserable span.

So when three hundred years were past, the Neck’s heart failed him, and he said, “All this avails nothing. Wherefore I will return to the lake, and there abide what shall befall.” And this he accordingly did.

Now one evening there came a tempest down from the hills, and there was a sudden squall on the lake. And a certain young man in a boat upon the lake was overtaken by the storm. And as he struggled hard, and it seemed as if every moment must be his last, a young maid who was his sweetheart came down to the shore, and cried aloud in her agony, “Alas, that his young life should be cut short thus!”